Danny Hanning
Westminster, California, United States
Looking for people to help me, help myself.
<h2 class="western" style="margin-left: 120px;"> 'The Story of Daniel'</h2> <h2> </h2> <h2 align="center">Episode Six – ‘Daniel the Freshman’</h2> <h2 align="center">Part Three</h2> <p> </p> <h3> Where to take you next, that <em>is</em> always the quandary for me as your guide to my past. We have visited ‘Doc’ in Speech class in the theater-in-the-round classroom. Did I mention how cold it was in that room? Every season, every day that room was 60 degrees. Some days I would swear it was in the mid 50’s. Moreover, I <em>loved </em>it! Therefore, we visited ‘Doc’. Thank you for that, I had been meaning to visit him for a long time. </h3> <h3> Did I mention <em>when</em> I saw ‘Doc’ last? Let me lay that one on you, before we proceed with <em>‘Sweet Charity’ </em>and <em>‘Red Shoes’.</em> <em>(Yes, I already knew where we were going, next. Silly.)</em> I remember when ‘Doc’ passed away. As I have told you, ‘Doc’ and I talked a <em>lot</em> and often. In his last year (I didn’t know that, then) I used to go over to his house and visit. ‘Doc’ passed away right in the theater office, sitting at his desk.</h3> <h3> Everyone had thought he had “just fallen asleep” again, and had left him through lunch. It wasn’t until after lunch, that they sent someone from the office, and found ‘Doc’ had passed. Right where ‘Doc’ had always told me he <em>wanted </em>to die, at work. The next morning Truman and someone from the office approached me. Seems ‘Doc’ had several <em>‘Last Requests’</em> and instructions for burial. One of those requests? Was to, and I quote,<em> “never be left alone”</em> until he was interred. His funeral was the next day, but that left that very night. A couple of students, that he was very close to, had been asked but turned down the idea of spending the night in the ‘Pearland Funeral Home’. Then they asked me, and I asked Russell Bundy.</h3> <h3> Now Russell <em>knew</em> ‘Doc’. Hell, you would have had to live under a rock, to <em>not</em> have known ‘Doc’ and been a PHS student back then. Russell did it for me. With no more notice than lunch till dinner, Russell and I planned and packed to spend the night in a funeral home. I never found out <em>‘why’ </em>Doc had made this request, but for me it didn’t matter. Doc had added to <em>who</em> I was, and who I was to be so substantially it was the least I could do to keep him company until he was buried. That, and like a surrogate father, I <em>loved</em> ‘Doc’. Writing this, right now, I <em>miss</em> ‘Doc’ to this very day I feel his loss in my life. So, that is another story, for another day.</h3> <h3>[<strong><em>SOMEBODY out there… remind me… remind me to write the story of Danny & Bundy & ‘Doc’… K? Promise?]</em></strong></h3> <h3><strong><em> </em></strong></h3> <h3> The evening I auditioned for <em>‘Sweet Charity’ </em>belongs to a set of memories I hope that I never loose. I remember walking into the theater, and all the smells. <em>(Funny, that the strongest memories I have come with scents. Is everyone that way?) </em>I had been in that theater (I got tired of typing auditorium, k?)… in that theater many many times, before that evening. I was already quite familiar with the smells that wafted through the air, there. All the familiar smells were still there; the smell of the air conditioning unit, the cleaner they used on the floors, and the stage. However, tonight there were <em>new</em> smells in the theater and they were overwhelming.</h3> <h3> I came in not from the back, where someone who was used to being in an audience might enter. I entered from the ‘choir/band’ entrance that leads right into the orchestra pit, off the apron of the stage. I noticed the difference as soon as I stepped into the theater. First, the audience lights had been dimmed and all the colored ‘Strip lights’ were on full. The second thing I noticed was ‘Doc’ and Truman. They were sitting right in the middle of the seats. I think they had set up a piece of plywood, to work as a makeshift desk. Both were smoking, and if I remember correctly, Truman was taking a drink of coffee and I looked up.</h3> <h3> Cigarettes and coffee. I had never smelled those two smells in the theater, before. There was a ‘sign-in’ sheet, on the stage, and I added my name. I took a seat, up front. As I turned around and looked around the seats, I could clearly see that ‘clicks’ had formed. All of the newer people were sitting right up front, in the first couple of rows. We were all quietly talking amongst ourselves. Then there were the ‘regulars’, they had congregated stage left, about mid-theater, everyone that had been in shows before were sitting together just to the right of Truman and ‘Doc’.</h3> <h3> They were <em>not</em> sitting quietly. They were laughing and hopping over seats and chasing one another, they were in full ‘play’ mode. I, immediately, did <em>not</em> understand their behavior. How could people be so… <em>relaxed</em> and <em>play</em> when they were about to audition for a <em>play</em>? I wasn’t really ‘<em>nervous</em>’, I never really <em>got</em> nervous auditioning. Oh, I <em>hate</em> rejection. I absolutely <em>hate</em> not getting cast. But, getting up on a stage and reading a script? No <em>way</em>, that was a <em>fun</em> evening! That is exactly what I had, that night, a <em>fun</em> evening. I was called, to the stage, early on in the audition. I read with Dawn, as I remember. I stumbled, at first, then I looked up at Dawn and she mouthed, <em>“relax” </em>and motioned downward with her upstage hand.</h3> <h3> I took a deep breath, looked again up at Dawn, smiled… and I acted. Moreover, for the next six years I <em>acted</em>… I didn’t stop. Dear reader, this is the hardest part of the job I placed before me. <em>This,</em> <strong>right now</strong> is most difficult and painful part of this task, and a lot of why this is happening in the <em>sixth</em> chapter and not the second. For the next six years, majorly the next four, I lived a life of incredible experiences. I was taken away from a life of pain and confusion, a world of uncertainty and separation and I was transported to a world of excitement and wonder. Another… <em>family</em> and I was in need of one.</h3> <h3> The rest of the night, I sat close to the stage because I kept getting called on. I read with every girl there, that night, and a few of the guys, too. I loved every second on that stage. I loved the lights, though not at first. I <em>loved</em> the feeling of my feet on the wooden stage. I imagine there are basketball players that <em>know</em> what I mean. Certain ‘stages’ you can <em>feel</em> something in the wood. That stage, there in Pearland, for <em>whatever</em> reason <strong>has</strong> that feeling. Every single time I walked on to that stage, that night, was like taking a drug. A highly addictive drug at that.</h3> <h3> By the end of the night there was energy in the air, and a dynamic between the people that was euphoric. That night, not only had a ‘show’ been cast, a new <em>family</em>had been born. I was going to be part of it, I had already been told. Told by the frequency of my visits to the stage, and told by Truman. About mid-way through the evening, I heard a deep and rumbling voice call my name, from the dark.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“Daniel… Daniel Hanning?”</em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3>It was Truman, and he was calling me to get him and ‘Doc’ some more coffee. There was a pot, set up under the curtain of the stage. ROFLMAO For the next four years <em>“There was a pot, set up under the curtain of the stage”</em> Anyway, I was called back, and one by one I got coffees for ‘Doc’ and Truman. At that point I sat a little further back, in the center isle of the theater. Close enough to get to the stage, when called, quickly. And not so far that Truman had to raise his voice to talk to me… and also so I could listen to ‘Doc’ and Truman talk about the other students. J</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3>The audition went late into the night. People trickled out, all along the night, until there was just a hand full of people ‘Doc’, Truman and myself. This is when I began to see the ‘family’ that I was about to join. Dawn was sitting right beside ‘Doc’ and had his ear about something. The rest of the current actors were either sitting around Dawn and ‘Doc’, or were on stage talking with Truman. From the conversations I was overhearing, the show was already cast; it was just a matter of typing up the list and posting.</h3> <h3>I was getting tired, and it was after 10PM, so I went over to Truman and asked if the auditions were over and I could go. Truman took me by the arm, and led me off stage. Once we were out of earshot Truman told me that he had thought I did an excellent job, and helped considerably. Truman told me that he couldn’t tell me the cast, yet, but that I would have a “speaking part”. I was so happy, I think I walked on air, all the way home. I <em>was</em> going to be a part of that family, and I was going to be seen and <em>heard</em> on stage.</h3> <h3>This one night, set in motion, more than a decade of events. It set the course of my life and empowered me to be the man I am today. It was a ‘Pivot Point’ in my life, and all I did was come to a high school play audition. How a seemingly simple act can be a catalyst for life altering events. <em>That <strong>is</strong> life. </em></h3> <h3><strong> </strong></h3> <h3><strong>That brings us to the end or Part Three ‘Daniel the Freshman’ come back on Friday for Episode Six Part Four of ‘The Story of Daniel’.</strong></h3> <h3><strong> </strong></h3> <h3><strong>As always, thank you for your kindness and support. </strong></h3> <h2 style="margin-left: 150px;"><strong>Episode Six - Part One </strong></h2> <h2 style="margin-left: 150px;"><strong>Of The Conclusion</strong></h2> <p> </p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;">When last we met Daniel was leaving the audition for ‘Sweet Charity’. It was late at night, most likely 10:30PM-11:00PM. I was a freshman, so I didn’t drive quite yet. I didn’t really know <em>anyone</em> from the drama department or the last year’s cast. Therefore, I (Danny) hoofed it home, once again. It was a long walk, even when it wasn’t so late at night, but being as tired as I was this was one of the longest walks ever.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> I remember when I had made it past the tracks, how relieved I felt that I was half way home. That night, the walk from the high school to Frances street out by Mykawa road and West Broadway, was a long one. By the time I came up to my neighborhood, the ‘walking on air’ was long gone, and the reality of having to get up in just five hours was hitting home. Little did I know that this late night walk would soon become a regular event.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> When I finally got home, my mother had left for work. I unlocked the front door, and did a ‘zombie shuffle’ into my bedroom. I took off the now soaked with sweat clothes, set my alarm for 5AM and fell into bed. I remember, as I feel into a deep sleep, fragments of a dream. A dream of me being in a play, in this play I was on the apron of the stage, downstage right, and all the audience was laughing at <strong><em>me!</em></strong> Then I fell into a much-needed sleep.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> After that night, my days now became divided between; a full schedule at PHS, a 36-40 work week at <em>Ron’s Krispy Fired Chicken</em>, rehearsals for plays after work and a long and sweaty walk home, around midnight. That was my routine, for the next three years. Only in my senior year, did I finally cut back my schedule @ Ron’s and have a couple of nights a week off from work. Till my senior year my life was; getting up at 5AM, walking to school for my 7:30AM class, classes until 2:30PM (or 12:30PM my Junior and Senior years), off to work at <em>Ron’s</em> as soon as I left work, I would put in six to eight hours at <em>Ron’s</em> and then off to rehearsals. It kept me out of trouble, and very busy.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> The rehearsals for <em>‘Sweet Charity’</em> took me away from everything that I didn’t like about my life, and my days. The rehearsals took me away from the drudgery, and to a different place. They took me to a place of hope and understanding, and among people that didn’t judge. Most everyone there was there for one reason, and one reason only, to entertain his or her friends and family in Pearland. I don’t know of a single person, which was on that stage, as a step headed to a sound stage in <em>Hollywood.</em> </span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> Oh, don’t get me wrong, we <em>all </em>had dreams. At least, at that point, I felt that the dreams were all grounded in reality. This first show was really a different experience. Not just for me, for the entire cast. About one-quarter of the cast were <em>new</em> to the school plays and acting. The other three-quarters were familiar with how to ‘put on’ a school play and acting, but were learning what it was to have Truman Dunahoo as the ‘Assistant Director’. Since ‘Doc’ feel asleep early and often, Truman actually did <em>all</em> the directing, staging and after-rehearsal notes. Hang on, that is not fair, I remember ‘Doc’ often giving notes. He gave me notes about my lines in the first scene. Matter of fact (and this might only be relatable to actors) ‘Doc’ gave me my very first note. “Louder! Much more excited! You have only <em>one line</em> to make an impression, make us remember <strong>you</strong>!<strong>”</strong> You might want to <em>remember that note</em> for later in this story.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> So, an evening on the set of <em>‘Sweet Charity’</em> started with Truman’s vocal exercises, followed by some movement exercises, and concluded with diction exercises. After our warm-up we would either run the show from the beginning (my favorite rehearsals, since I was <em>in</em> the opening scene) or Truman would have a list of scenes that he wanted to run and would dismiss everyone else. However, even when most of the cast was dismissed, I never went home.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> Truman had found out about my experiences with; running the projector during the summers and my education (by my father) in electronics and electricity. Truman quickly put me to work on the stage lights. When I wasn’t acting, I was on the top of an aluminum scaffold fixing lights and putting colored gels on them. I had/have a real fear of heights, and let me tell you that fear is <em>not</em> negated when you are just ten feet above a wooden stage.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> However, each and every time, I would just climb that scaffolding, get up to the top, and work on the lights. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> The lights had been the very first item on the list of parts of the stage to be rehabilitated. The impression I got, from Truman, was that the stage, lights, and flats and costumes had not been properly maintained, in the past several years. This would leave the stagehands (me, and several other people with smaller parts that wanted more involvement in the play) with a very big list of work items to be completed before opening night.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;">The set flats were in far too bad a shape to be used, I remember Truman telling me one night. We would have to build all new sets, but not for this show. Our current production, being a musical, we could take liberties and not have the large sets, which would come with later productions.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;">This takes me to the very first weekend set party. It wasn’t <em>really</em> a party, Truman just figured more people would show-up if he <em>called </em>it a ‘party’. It was on a Saturday afternoon, so I took the morning shift at Ron’s and finally made it to the ‘party’ around 2PM. I don’t know if anyone else has this memory of Truman, but I remember (that day, and many set parties that followed) that he had a knack for organizing people and getting everyone working. If you didn’t have a tool in your hands, Truman <em>knew</em> and he would soon find you and put you to work.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> It was an essential skill, which Truman had, for the PHS theater department at that time. Because, Truman was shortly proven right, about the sets and later the make-up and costumes, our stores had not been maintained and often ravaged and depleted. People had been taking advantage of ‘Docs’ declining health and mental awareness and borrowing, without permission, and not returning. It took a lot of work, and time, but we all managed to get all the materials we needed to pull off the production.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> I, eventually, ended up with; the walk-on role in the first act scene one, a non-speaking role of a guy picking up a girl right before the dance scene in the brothel, two or three chorus parts and I was in a couple of group scenes. In between I would help with pulling curtains and running props. I had managed to find a way to keep myself very busy when I was not on stage. That is one thing I have <em>never</em> been able to do, when not performing, just hang around and do nothing. I just can’t do it. For me, it has to do with rhythm. A play, like a piece of music for singing or instruments, has a rhythm, a beat. For me, plays have a rhythm, too.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> If I was not <em>doing</em> something back stage, or performing on stage, I felt I would loose the rhythm of the play. Luckily, I was good at keeping busy off stage, and after ‘Sweet Charity’ and ‘Bye-Bye Birdie’ I would <strong><em>never</em></strong> have to worry about not being on stage. I remember the rhythm of ‘Sweet Charity’ to be very fast and steady. Bump, bump, bump, bump one right on the heals of the one before. Once the first lines were delivered (one of them being mine), I stayed right with that rhythm till the closing curtain. I had never felt anything like that before in my life.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> This driving, yet unheard, rhythm. Well, you <em>heard</em> the rhythm when the pit orchestra played. Oh, <em>please</em> let me side track, for just a moment. High school musicals are a very good idea. I didn’t <em>know</em> many people from the band. Being in choir and theater, well choral people stick together. Seems the same is true for band members, they stick together. This is not <em>entirely</em> a ‘Bad Thing’, nor is it unexpected. However, when we performed ‘Sweet Charity’ we used a pit orchestra made up of members of the band.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> The orchestra was right there with us, towards the end, every rehearsal. We would miss ques, and drop lines or mess up, and the band would have to start over with us. Band members would, miss ques, drop notes or mess up and we would have to start over with them. They heard Truman give us notes and corrections, and we would hear them get notes and corrections. Very shortly the members of that pit orchestra and the members of the theater department gained a respect for each other. I got to know some band members, and some band members got to know the actors, singers and dancers. <strong><em>That</em></strong> is what is really god about high school musicals.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> Groups of students, with similar interests, getting to work together and overcome division and gain respect instead of make fun. From that point on, I <em>never</em> used the term “Band Geek” again. I <em>know</em>, I got off topic, but it seemed important to relay. Between my ramblings writing and my adlib reading these ‘episodes’, they are going to end up being short novels.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> We were rehearsing with the band, so if you are guessing that it is getting close to <em>‘Opening Night’.</em> You would be correct. J Everything was built, and being used on stage. All my lights were working, and gelled. All I needed was a bit of luck and for no lights to burn out before opening night. Most of us were wearing ‘street clothes’ that looked ‘period’ as costumes. Dawn had several dresses made for her costumes, as did some of the other girls in the parlor.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> I distinctly remember walking home, our last rehearsal before the <em>‘dress rehearsal’</em>, thinking about putting on stage make-up. For some reason, that was my one personal hang up, make-up. I mean, it is 1974 in Pearland, Texas. Guys just did <strong>not</strong> wear make-up and I had enough problems getting bullied. The <em>last</em> thing I needed was to be in front of the whole school in make-up! Shortly after I deliver my <em>very first line</em> of my acting career, the whole make-up issue would disappear. Just to be replaced by a much greater fear. ... ... ... </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: tahoma,arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: medium;">. <strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">To Be Continued... Tomorrow! </span></em></strong></span></p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <h2 align="center"><strong>‘The Story of Daniel’</strong></h2> <h2 align="center">Episode Six – Conclusion</h2> <h2 align="center"><strong><em>‘Daniel the Freshman’</em></strong></h2> <h2 align="center"><strong><em>Finale</em></strong></h2> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <h3>I slept surprising well, the night before our Opening Night for ‘Sweet Charity’. I awoke, in the morning, feeling refreshed and ready for the day and the performance. I breezed through classes, and in-between classes the day seemed charged with invisible energy. I didn’t work, that day, so when I was finished with classes I went right over to the theater. I could check lights and maybe get some instruction on the make-up.</h3> <h3> When I arrived, at the theater, Truman was there but no one else had arrived. I asked Truman about the make-up, and he walked me back to the boy’s dressing room. When he brought out the make-up he began apologizing. Not really <em>to </em>me, but more just in general;</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“I found out, today, that all we have is grease paint make-up.” </em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> He took out a tube that looked like a toothpaste tube on steroids. He took the top off, rubbed some on his hand and held it by my face.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“Well, you are not playing an Indian, tonight, so that is too dark!” </em></h3> <h3> Followed by Truman’s deep trademark laugh. </h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“Let me get another.” </em></h3> <h3><em> </em></h3> <h3>He dug around in, what appeared to be a fishing tackle box, and pulled out another steroid drugged tube. He squeezed some out on the other hand, and rubbed some on the other side of my face. I, so far, sat silent and apprehensive.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “That looks much better, turn around and look. What do you think?” </em>Truman asks.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> I turn towards the mirror, look at both cheeks, and say;</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “The last one matches better, but I just don’t like the idea of wearing make-up, Truman. Is it something I have to do?”</em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> Truman laughed under his breath, signs and says;</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “Only if you want to be seen, Daniel.” </em>…and continues</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“That theater is a barn. If you don’t project, they will never hear you. If you don’t wear make-up, they will never see your face. You will have a flat face, and nobody will be able to see you act.” </em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> Hum, OK, I hadn’t thought about it <em>that way</em>. I very much wanted everyone in the theater to <em>see</em> me, that is like the whole point… of acting… being <em>seen!</em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“OK” </em>I said. <em>“I hadn’t really thought about it, like that, before.” </em>Then, for some odd reason, I opened up to Truman and told him something I had never told a teacher or anyone outside my family.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “I mean, I get picked on enough, I just don’t want to get beat up for wearing make-up.”</em></h3> <h3><em> </em></h3> <h3> There was a noticeable ‘catch’ in Truman’s breathing, yes he had heard me and understood. He just looked at me, with those huge deep eyes and said;</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “Anyone that picks on you, or makes fun of you, for wearing make-up in a play is just stupid. Ignore them.”</em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> He was right, I had heard similar from my father. Seems bullies just don’t <em>mind</em> being “stupid”.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> Shortly after the last bell, everyone started showing up. There was great hustle and bustle, back stage, and there was an energy forming in that theater. As the afternoon wore into evening and curtain time drew closer, that energy became palatable. I wasn’t the only one that felt it, either. You could <em>see</em> the energy in most everyone’s eyes, and heard it in their voices. A mixture of anxiousness and glee that, I soon discovered, was intoxicating.</h3> <h3> As people filed into the theater, I was taught some new lessons. First, <em>never</em> look out at the audience and <em>be seen</em>! That was poor form. Second, you <em>never </em>wish an actor before a performance “Good Luck”, it is “Good Show” or “Break-A-Leg”. Good luck resulted in bad luck. Last, and most important, <em>be quite</em>. When you are off stage (during a performance) you don’t make a sound. No talking, no “horse play”, this was serious business.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“Five minutes!’</em>” We hear Truman say, back stage.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> No one responds. Actually, for a second, I think <em>everyone</em> froze. Wherever we were, what ever we were doing, we froze. We were five minutes from the start of a show we had all worked on for months. We were in make-up (surprisingly, to some of us), in costume, we knew our lines, we knew our blocking and we <em>knew</em> our ques. This was no dress rehearsal; people had actually <em>paid</em> to see us perform. I wasn’t nervous, but my heart was sure getting loud in my chest.</h3> <h3> I stepped outside the theater and into the hallway by the band hall. Just then Truman walked by, with the cast following him quietly.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “Follow us, Daniel.”</em> Truman said, as he passed me. He had a smile on his face, that could have lit up the city of New York it was so bright. There was a bounce in his step, a smile on his face, and a power in his heart that (not known to me, yet) he was about to share with all of us. The entire cast was now in the band hall, and we were forming a circle holding hands. There was that darned electricity, again, it was <em>thick</em> with us all in the band hall. I swear I could <em>feel</em> my hair standing on end, like in a lightning storm. The rumbling of Truman’s voice interrupts my thoughts.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“We only have a couple of moments, but I wanted to call you all in here and share something with you.” </em> </h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> We were all feeling <em>it</em>, and small conversations broke out around the circle. Then Truman began, again;</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “There is a tradition I learned, in theater. A tradition that teaches us that, tonight, we are unique. Tonight we are the <strong>best</strong> at this play in the entire world. We are unique in that no one else on the planet can <strong>do</strong> this play the way we do. And that uniqueness gives us <strong>magic</strong>. There is magic, in the theater. And the theater is magic.” </em></h3> <h3><em> </em></h3> <h3>OK If there is a single person, in that room right then, that <em>didn’t </em>have goose bumps, and I would very much be surprised! We were <strong><em>all </em></strong>smiling so big, and so hard. I remember, going home later that night, my checks were so very sore. We stood in that circle, now, and repeated after Truman.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “There is magic, in the theater. And, the theater is magic!”</em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> If we had all started lifting off the ground, at that moment, I honestly don’t think anyone would have been surprised. We, all, felt <em>it</em> now and a lot of us felt light headed. I know I did. We stopped chanting and threw our arms up together in one final <em>“Magic!” </em>Then, we orderly and quietly moved back into the theater and took our places.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em> “One minute, everyone, ONE MINUTE!” </em>Truman’s voice rumbled backstage, yet not loud enough to be heard by the audience now being seated.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> While everyone else was filing back into the theater, I ran as fast as I could to the water fountain by the choir room. I drank deep and long, I as 16 and I wasn’t about to have my voice <em>break</em> on my first line of my high school acting career. The water, well it didn’t want to <em>stay</em>. I dashed into the Boy’s bathroom. Urinal. Out.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> As I am running (literally running from the glass double doors to the stage door downstage right of the theater) past the band hall, I hear the opening threads of the show! I have about, ten seconds to get in place, or I am going to miss my very first performance que! I pass the last doors into the theater, I can hear the orchestra clearly now, and whip a right into the doors of the backstage entrance.</h3> <h3> I am <strong>so</strong> lucky, two people are standing at the doors holding them open talking. Now, they weren’t <em>supposed</em> to be doing that, but I was <em>very happy</em>. I darted into the double doors, jumped up the stairs onto the stage. Now, I move briskly but quietly into place downstage right, where the apron meets the curtain. As I step into place, I hear it.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <strong><em>My que!</em></strong> Dawn is arguing with the man she is with, and she gets pushed into a (fake) lake. I jump out onto a bench onstage and say;</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> <em>“There’s a girl down in the lake, I think she is drowning”</em></h3> <h3><em> </em></h3> <h3>I turn out towards the audience, as I point into the orchestra pit, and I hear the audience laughing. Laughing loudly… Laughing loudly for a long time, and no one is speaking. Everything starts slowing down, now, in my memory and in that moment. The theater is cold, just like ‘Docs’ classroom, it is cold in the theater and it is cold on stage.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3>Suddenly, I feel… a breeze. Yeah, let’s say a breeze. I feel coolness where, it shouldn’t <em>be.</em> I feel a breeze and my pants are getting cold. I look down. Now, remember, this is my very first line in front of a paying audience.</h3> <h3>And I look down, at my fly. And, my fly. Is down. I don’t panic, that’s the rule. So, I look back up, at the audience. I look down at my fly, and I pull it up. I look back up, at the audience, and give them a sheepish grin and shrug my shoulders. Then I turn, back upstage, to the student with the next line. Not missing a beat, budump-bump.</h3> <h3>He didn’t have a chance, the boy with the next line, because the audience came unglued. I just stood there, looking upstage left, holding my breath. They laughed so hard, and for so long, and we all just stood there and waited. Dawn was in the pit, and she was smiling at me… really smiling. The boy, on stage, who had the next line was just standing there, smiling. And the audience laughed and clapped.</h3> <h3>Shortly, it died down, and the play went on. As soon as the curtain went down on that scene, I was mobbed back stage. I had created quite a stir, going on stage with my fly down and then pulling it up in front of the audience. I was, now, the ‘Bad Boy’ of the play. The attention died quickly; as each person was called on to perform. That night, a hand full of people changed. They touched another reality, one they helped create. The show went without a single hitch, beyond my ‘Wardrobe Malfunction’.</h3> <h3>That night, there were ‘Notes’. We didn’t often get ‘Notes’ after a performance, but tonight we were getting notes. I was sweating bullets. I mean, really, I walked out on stage with my fly down. Would I even <em>have</em> a role in the play, after tonight?</h3> <h3>We gathered on the apron and the first two rows of seats. A <em>lot</em> of people were pointing at me, and laughing. I would have been embarrassed, but it was just too funny to me. Truman and Doc came down, and sat in the first row.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3>The first comments were from Doc, for Dawn, something about staging for getting out of the pit in act one. Then Truman had some notes, for people not projecting well enough. There was snickering at each pause, and these two guys just kept looking at me and laughing. Then it was time for Truman’s notes.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em>“Daniel, in act one scene one, you had a problem with your fly?” </em></h3> <h3>It was like someone uncorked a juvenile genie and the laughter just came pouring out. Now everyone is laughing and going</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em>“Way to go, Daniel!”</em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3>I look over, and see that Doc and Truman are laughing, too. I am not bothered; don’t get me wrong, strangely I am not that embarrassed. The laughter is dying down, when Truman speaks.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em>“Doc and I agreed, keep it. Keep the bit with the zipper.” </em></h3> <h3><em> </em></h3> <h3>The cast just breaks into uproarious laughter and kudos. I get slapped on the back enumerable times, and that night, my very first performance? Is a cameo performance. Then Doc spoke to me;</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><em>“I remember I told you to speak up and make an impression. I guess that Daniel <strong>is</strong> listening to my notes.” </em></h3> <h3> </h3> <h3>Another wave of laughter passes over the cast. A huge weight lifts from my shoulders, and I could feel from the cast, too. I don’t think anyone in the cast wanted me to get into trouble, for my wardrobe problem, they just wanted to laugh about it and share in some of the fun. I am relieved by how Truman and Doc reacted. Honestly, I’m not really surprised, it <em>was</em> a mistake, right?</h3> <h3>I had ‘Doc’ ask me that very question, later that year. I’ll tell you what I told Doc. “I’m not saying, I don’t want to get into trouble.” Doc laughed.</h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> </h3> <h3> </h3> <h3><strong>This brings us to the end of this episode ‘Daniel the Freshman’. </strong></h3> <h3><strong> </strong></h3> <h2><strong>Be sure to come back on Wednesday for the next Episode of ‘The Story of Daniel’.</strong></h2> <h2><strong> </strong></h2> <h2><strong>Thank you, for your kindness and support. </strong></h2> <p style="margin-left: 210px;"><strong> </strong></p> <p> </p> <h2 align="center"><strong><em> </em></strong></h2>
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